


Through the Bathroom Door

by crankyrage



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyrage/pseuds/crankyrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat because he’s an adult – he’s a man. He can have a conversation about feelings without getting physically ill, thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Bathroom Door

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know what this is. I didn't really proofread (surprise), and this literally is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written in the entirety of my life. I'm actually a little sorry, and I want to punch myself in the face a little. The struggle is real. But, hey, I thought I'd post it anyway, because why not.
> 
> Also, sometimes, I sacrifice grammar for style -- just letting you know in advance. I'm a mess; it's fine.
> 
> So, I guess sorry for being terrible in advance?
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, and mean no harm by using any real-life person or their likeness; this is simply a work of fiction for entertainment value.

“It hurts more than I thought,” Patrick hears Johnny’s voice say.

It stops him dead in his tracks in the foyer of Johnny’s apartment; he just listens.

Johnny sounds absolutely wrecked. Patrick doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so miserable – not when they got their asses handed to them in the first round on the playoffs, not when he was out with that stupid fucking concussion, not even during Kaner’s Cinco De Mayo deadspin meltdown did he sound this upset.

“Fuck,” he hears Johnny whisper into the phone, “Sharpy – I just – I can’t— it hurts all the time – like, fuck—“

Patrick takes a deep breath. Was Johnny hiding another injury? Patrick clenches his fists to his sides – he was absolutely going to kill him if that were the truth. Jesus, it was stupid enough the first time, but again, Christ.

He can hear Johnny’s intense mouth breathing from where he’s standing, but he can’t quite see. But, it kind of sounds like he’s crying, “I just – I don’t know what I’m doing or who I am – and I just, it fucking hurts—“

Patrick’s thoughts race a little. He doesn’t know if he should just leave and pretend like he’s never overheard this obviously personal conversation that Johnny’s having with Sharpy, or if he should clear his throat and get his best fucking friend to let him in, instead.

“It’s like – you think, like when you’re a kid it’s going to be like the best fucking thing ever, y’know? It’s like fucking Christmas and your birthday and everything in one – but it’s all the time. It’s supposed to be like – the aim of your life or some complete bullshit, right? Then why does it hurt so bad?”

Patrick knows Johnny’s definitely crying. His voice is pitched and strained; he can almost audibly hear the tears fall.

“It’s just – it’s not puppies and rainbows, y’know? It’s so raw and real and fucking terrifying – I’m fucking terrified of it. But – it’s like real. It’s more real than anything, do you get me, Sharpy? It’s like – I hate it so much – but I want it – it’s fucking intoxicating or something. I want it so bad. It burns and it’s terrible, but it’s – like – I dunno I feel alive or something. That sounds really dumb, doesn’t it?”

Patrick is really, really lost at this point. He definitely doesn’t know what to do, and he feels kind of terrible standing here listening to Johnny sound so vulnerable. This conversation was not meant for his little ears.

He swallows the lump that’s building in his throat and pivots on his heels trying to leave as quietly as he came in, when he hears Johnny say it.

Johnny laughs a little wryly making a pained, pathetic noise, “I just love him, Sharpy – Kaner’s like – he’s it for me – and I can’t make it stop.”

Patrick suddenly feels like all the air is sucked out of the room; he feels nauseous and terrible like he’s going to blow chunks right there in the front room of Tazer’s apartment.

In the end, Patrick some how gets off his feet to scramble to the little half bath off the living room of Johnny’s apartment and throws up there. He doesn’t really want to think about what kind of person that makes him.

“Kaner?” he sees Johnny hover above him when he regains his sense of time and space a few minutes later. He’s still hovering over the toilet a little because he doesn’t really know if he’ll be able to have this conversation without throwing up again.

“Yeah?” his voice comes out as raw as he feels, and Johnny frowns still clutching his phone to his ear.

“I’ll call you back, Sharpy—“

Patrick can hear Sharpy protest a little as Johnny hits the end call button; he might even hear Sharpy shout something about putting it on speaker, the bastard.

Johnny stares at him accusingly, which is a little difficult to do when your face is tear-stained and red and blotchy from crying, “How much of that did you hear?”

Patrick tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat because he’s an adult – he’s a fucking man. He can have a conversation about feelings without getting physically ill, thank you.

“I—“ he definitely thought too soon, and he retches loudly into Johnny’s toilet bowl, red Gatorade and god knows what else making its reappearance. 

Johnny hovers a little, like he isn’t sure if he can touch Patrick without the delicate balance of the universe coming crashing down on both of them, “Shit, buddy—“

“Sorry,” Patrick groans laying his forehead against the cold porcelain willing himself not to start crying on top of all of this.

Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose a little reaching over Patrick to flush the toilet, “I don’t know really what to do here, man.”

“Ugh,” Kaner groans pathetically lower lip whimpering a little, “I just – I’m sorry.”

Johnny looks – something Patrick can’t really place. He’s not angry or upset; he just looks tired and worn down and a little shattered.

“I – I didn’t mean for you to hear,” Johnny mumbles a few beats later, “I just – fuck—“

“I’m sorry—“ Patrick repeats picking his head up and locking eyes with Johnny.

“Quit apologizing,” Johnny replies flippantly, “What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m a terrible, terrible person,” Patrick groans.

Johnny huffs out a breath and seems to consider for a few seconds, “You’re not—“ 

Fresh tears begin to prick at Johnny’s eyes, and Patrick’s never seen him look quite this vulnerable, ever. It’s new and it’s scary, and he doesn’t know what to do with Johnny like this. He doesn’t know where to catalog all this with all the other images he has of Johnny – of Captain Serious, Captain Competitive, awkward, socially inept Johnny, drunk Johnny, surprisingly-handsy tipsy Johnny, and all the rest. This image of Johnny just doesn’t fit with the rest, and Patrick feels useless.

“You’re not a terrible person, Kaner. You’re just – fuck – you or something. I’m the one that needs to get over this shit—“

“Why?” Patrick asks softly turning to face Johnny sitting Indian style with his back against the toilet.

“Why?” Johnny spits it back quietly, “Because I don’t want this awkward thing to happen for the rest of our careers?”

“No,” Patrick says quietly looking away from Johnny, “Why did you say all of those things? Why did you tell Sharpy? Why didn’t you tell me? We’re supposed to be best friends—“

Johnny narrows his eyes at Patrick and from the angle they’re at it looks like he’s flaring his nostrils a little, “Yeah, Kaner – because you reacted so well to my big gay crush on you—“

Kaner swallows a little, the taste of vomit still everywhere in his mouth, “I was just – it – I was surprised, Johnny. I was surprised.”

“Yeah,” Johnny laughs wryly, “I’d say so.”

“No—“ Patrick finally scrambles to his feet so they’re almost nose to nose, fucking height difference, “I just – I’m sorry I’m so terrible to have feelings for, is all. That’s why I’m sorry.”

“God Kaner, that’s not – it’s not about you, and it’s not terrible—“

“You said that it fucking basically kills you that you’re in love with me, so I don’t really know how else to take that—“

“It’s not – it’s just – love hurts, y’know?” Johnny blinks down at him, and Patrick can see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“Not really – I’m pretty sure it feels pretty good, Johnny—“

Johnny scoffs breaking eye contact, “No it doesn’t! It fucking sucks! I care about you more than I care about everything. I want to make sure you’re okay all the fucking time – like I have irrational fears about you dying like going to the store. And I like to fucking stare into your eyes like a goddamn serial killer. It hurts how much I love you, Kaner. It’s not a nice emotion – it’s raw – it’s this burning sensation I get in my chest whenever you’re around – like I never thought another person could make me feel this way, okay? It’s real and jagged and it makes me crazy – I’m fucking crazy.”

“You were always crazy,” Patrick tries to joke but it sounds forced to even his ears, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Kaner—“

“I’m not going to tell you I love you, Johnny. Cause that’s fucking crazy, okay? But, like you’re pretty alright—“

Johnny scoffs and looks away from Patrick’s gaze.

“I mean you’re terrible, but like I’m like – I’m pretty into terrible, I guess. I mean, yeah.”

“What the fuck, Kaner?” Johnny mumbles into the ground.

“Please stop fucking sounding so pathetic and look me in the fucking eye, okay?”

Johnny lifts his head and Patrick can see the tears start to fall, and he doesn’t really know what to do.

“I don’t love you, Johnny – or not in the way that you love me – but I don’t think that like anyone does anything as intensely as you do anything, so that’s not really news right?” Patrick pauses laughing awkwardly at his own joke, “But like it might seem like super clichéd – and I will literally cut off your dick if this leaves this room – but like I could like see myself falling in love with you, maybe – I just – I never really thought about it.”

Johnny looks down at him and shrugs, “You don’t think – not quite surprising.”

“Hahaha,” Patrick mimes, “Hilarious.”

“Yep,” Johnny hums, “I’d kiss you, but you just threw up because of your feelings, so—“

Patrick laughs and latches onto Johnny’s mouth anyway, licking in dirtily.

Johnny retches away, “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it, baby.”

“I blame Sharpy for all of this,” Johnny says laughing, “Go brush your rank teeth, Jesus.”


End file.
